THE DANGEROUS ROAD

 

THE DANGEROUS ROAD

"IF YOU DONT KNOW WHERE YOU ARE GOING - THEN ANY ROAD WILL LEAD YOU THERE."

- LEWIS CARROL

If I had known that this road is used often by Al Shabaab Terrorists I wouldn't have agreed to travel it. In fact it has a nickname - "The Al Shabaab Road" --- all this was withheld from me till the end of the journey back in Wajir

The elders were clever. They only said that we have to go East of Wajir, about 25km. 

"It's just on the outskirts of Wajir ... about half hour away from our site", said the Chairman

Thats how they lured me into this trip. As usual the 25km estimate was an underestimate .... it was actually 45km one way! And it took at least an hour plus.. one way!

The reason for this trip, "He has offered us 240 tonnes of aggregate, for free! A donation to the construction of the Hudheifa Masjid". .... that's how they put it!

"Please check for us the quality of this offered aggregate" added the Chairman.

So immediately we land in Wajir, we are driven out of the airport terminal building onto a rickety Land Cruiser that had obviously seen better days. Like many government vehicles this is yet another roughly driven one that goes through the hands of the ever-grumbling KAA drivers.

The driver ceremoniously hoots the cranky horn of the car as if to announce that he is ready to go, peeps through the dirty cloudy rear view window and without warning speeds off onto the driveway away from the terminal building.

We hold onto the metal bar which has been mounted onto the fibreglass body of the pickup rear. Its not comfortable at all. Its not supposed to be. We are in the NFD (Northern Frontier District)- a forgotten and thus ignored part of Kenya that was largely lawless for decades after independence. 

The locals always wondered loudly whether they were really in Kenya or Greater Somalia.

We drive past neat green fences, past the spick-and-span well-guarded American base and then the not-so-spick-and-span KDF base.

It's a 7-minute drive along a newish asphalt road punctuated by steep speed bumps that ensure the car does not go beyond 30kmh along any one stretch. The rickety Land Cruiser creeks and groans with every acceleration and deceleration. The steep bumps take a further toll upon the barely road worthy vehicle. It has no number plates. The rear cabin is an open pickup body with hard benches facing each other. You have to be athletic to board the vehicle.

The elderly passengers and women and children avoid this method of travel out of the airport terminal and opt to wait out a more accessible and safer mode .... this may take another half hour to get! But who cares, we are in Northern Frontier District of Kenya (NFD) .... this term NFD was dreaded in the 60s and 70s when the entire Northeastern Kenya was a quiet but active war zone. Now no longer referred to as NFD, but the term remains relevant due to the on-going obvious neglect by GoK.

For the last 60 years, the leadership of this part of Kenya have largely failed its people. It remains the most unequal society in the Country despite it being one single tribe that proclaims one single religion with one common language spoken in the entire region. The rich here are multi billionaires and poor have nothing to eat nor wear and yet these two are in many cases not more than a second cousin relationship away. They dont like it when I point out this bitter truth!

The Land Cruiser reaches the heavily defended gate of the Airport confines. Its mandatory to stop here. A heavily armed KDF soldier takes a long slow stroll from her hideout behind sand filled bunkers.... and deliberately looks into the faces of each and every passenger in the vehicle. She is looking for suspicious or guilty ones, maybe potential terrorists or sympathisers (only she and her colleagues know what signs she is looking for!).... I've never known that this is written upon our faces. Clearly, I still have lots to learn despite my advanced age.

After she has "silently interrogated" each one of our looks, she waves on the driver with a curt greeting.

We drive in a zigzag manner through the maze of tall sand bunkers. I am reminded of Mogadishu... this is how it is in the entire City. I solemnly forgive myself for allowing my mind think we are in Somalia - God Forbid!!

At the end of the sand bunker maze, we reach yet another heavily barricaded steel barrier. This time manned by another not-smiling KDF soldier. I get the impression that these guys are probably being punished to man these stations. Or maybe it is the armed forces 'Grumpy Day' today ... or maybe everyone is angry because the Budget is being read today - and there is a catalogue of new taxes being imposed upon an already heavily taxed population. But all this is fine - Afterall the Head of State - ni mtu wetu! And therefore, he is doing a good job.

Phew! We are now out of the heavily defended American and KDF base. I can't help but notice that the alert level sign at the gate showed "RED". Maybe this also contributed to all the searching and grumpiness? I suppose I'll never know. Ignorance is blissful.

At the outskirts of the base, several taxis await the ordeal-weary passengers, scampering along our famous Land Cruiser even before it stops.

"Amo! Let me take you town"

"Uncle, my charges are cheap"

One of them even starts picking luggage which is strewn onto the floor of our celebrity Land Cruiser.

I wave away each and every approach of the soliciting taxi drivers.

My double cab pickup hasnt arrived to us - but I know it will. And it truly does within a few minutes.

After exchanging greetings and stories of the weather, families and a little bit of the obvious politics (yes, we cannot escape this!)  - we now drive towards the house of the Chairman. whom we pick in less than 5 minutes and head eastwards along a tarmac road.

The town is slowly becoming sparse.  The metal roofed square adobe houses are fewer and now more interspersed with the circular (more oval-like), reed walled traditional Somali huts. The level of poverty is increasing exponentially with every small distance we travel out of town.

Presently, the tarmac ends without announcement or landmark. The all-weather murram road now winds into the distance.

The dry savannah scrubland dominates the scene. Its hot and dry. The recent rains have turned this semi-arid land into a somewhat habitable environment. Goats and Dorper Sheep dart into and out of bushes - surprised at the rare car that passes this road.

The Semi-Arid Savannah

An occasional homestead with the oval Somali hut appears. Families are at work. Semi naked children smile and wave at our speeding car.

As we drive on - tall anthills appear within the scrubland. Some taller than 3m - with ventilation holes showing signs of habited structures.

Anthill on the Savannah

Soon we reach a small centre in the middle of seemingly nowhere. This is Dasheq. Even the name is from seemingly nowhere - have you ever heard such a name?! Its a small town totally devoid of any permanent structure. All the houses are reed huts of varying shapes - this time mostly rectangular (after all they are built in a town - albeit a small one!)

Dasheq Town Centre

We see a better-than-the-Wajir Airport Land Cruiser. It is cleaner and better maintained despite it being used in a harsher environment and much worse roads (I rest my case against the first Cranky Land Cruiser - I promise, no more about it!).

Ibrahim waves down the car to stop - which he duly does. And the drivers break into a pleasant, surprised joy at seeing each other .... the Land Cruiser driver rattles off a machine-gun fire of Somali language in excitement - a stranger would be forgiven to think that these two are actually pleasantly happy to see other and not arguing nor about to shoot each other dead --- this is how the locals relate to one another!

"He is going to lead us to the source of the aggregate" announces Ibrahim. So we follow the Land Cruiser which has now made a U-turn and headed Eastwards.

Ibrahim maintains a respectable distance from the car ahead - otherwise we would soon be fully dusted in the resulting dustbath. The road changes hue depending on the colour of the soil. Mostly varying from whitish to deep red.

The White Murram Road

After a few bumpy kilometres - we see what looks like a small construction camp with a huge pile of aggregate. A large crusher is evident behind the piles of aggregate. There are two generators - one seems disused. A make-shift workers camp intermarried with a few traditional huts forms the nucleus of a workers' homestead not too far off from this dust-pan.

This is our destination.

And as though our arrival is awaited - a group of workers line up as we draw near the aggregate pile. Greetings exchanged in the Kenyan way ... and I proceed to check what seemed good quality material from a distance. It is granite aggregate and good quality too.

Yours truly with Engineer and Chairman

We approve of it and I urge Ibrahim to head back to Wajir ...

No mention of Al Shabaab or the dangers along the road - deliberately.

We drive back. Some more Savannah and the anthills.

A smaller Anthill

As we reach a bushy section of the road - a goat suddenly leaps onto the road. Our car is driving at no less than 80kmh. Ibrahim brakes but releases the brake because it is futile - we hit the goat and run over it - I am sure it was a painless and instant death! It is Eid-ul-Adha season anyway - she/he was destined to die - if not by the car I was in, then by the knife as a sacrificial lamb to commemorate the Eid .... 

Ibrahim slows down now. Apologises for not preventing this unnecessary sacrifice earlier than the Eid itself. He informs Chairman that we have to report this once we get to Dasheq - and there will be a claim from the owner - sooner or later. 

There are hardly any cars on this road and so there is no way of escaping responsibility for this loss. Everyone who lives along the road knows which and how many cars traverse this road, at what time, how many passengers in the car, make of car etc.

This is when Chairman hints as to why Ibrahim was speeding. This is Al Shabaab territory! They operate from here occasionally. And this is why Ibrahim did not stop to look at the damage to the car or the goat. This is the reason Ibrahim has been speeding all along! My heart jumps a few beats -- NOW HE TELLS US! I conceal my dread.

We reach Dasheq. We check the damage! A metal bumper bar has bent and is touching the tyre - this will eat up the tyre in no time. It has to be rectified. Ibrahim fetches a hammer to do this. I stop him and offer him an easier and more effective solution ... - tie the bumper to a rope and the rope to a tree and reverse .... Bingo ! It worked. 

Ahem! I wave aside the genius praises thrown at me by the occupants of the car and villagers who have gathered around.

Ibrahim reports the incident to one of the elders and we soon move on back towards Wajir.

Ibrahim opens up about the impending claim that will arise from the loss of the goat. Chairman reckons the cost will be around 8k - now that it's Eid season.

Ibrahim reckons --  "No No no!  .... The cost will be much more. Firstly, the owner will claim the goat was female and pregnant. Secondly, the goat was bearing twins - white ones at that .... total cost 30K".

This haggling will go one for hours and maybe settle at 15K!!

I don't want to think about this. I've been through similar incidents along Moyale Highway - and the nomadic mind is the same all over the world - whether in Wajir or the Sahara Desert or the Gobi Desert. Ibrahim will have to pay for it - but he will also have to endure the haggling!

Ibrahim now drives abit slower and more carefully -- we don't want to hit another female goat which is pregnant with white twins. 

My mind eases from anxiety of Al Shabaab - I relax and even snatch a few dozes of sleep. 

We reach Wajir by 2pm. Safe and sound! Phew!!!

I proceed to inspect the construction works on site after my afternoon prayers. and we soon head back to airport away from the dangerous road and away from these Northeastern badlands that remain volatile to this day - over 60 years after independence!